


Purgatory

by TheLittleDayDreamer



Series: Nora + Michael [3]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: British, Gen, Parenthood, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 06:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleDayDreamer/pseuds/TheLittleDayDreamer
Summary: It's 1943, unbeknown to them the war is halfway through, but Nora is already at her wits end with her children, Tommy's children and Mrs Wilson.





	Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't much, I just really hated my writing in chapter two of 'Failing Means You're Playing.'
> 
> Charlie and Ruby are quite a bit younger in this but, hey-ho. I wanted to write older Nora because teenage Nora annoys me, I don't find her interesting without the Shelby's because that its when all the drama happens. Y'know 'cause she had to marry a man she barely knew and only found him tolerable.

** Jan 6, 1943 **

"Mum, hurry!"

"Ah know Rosie." She hastily totters, collecting the trinkets. "Just go, I'll catch up wae you in a minute."

The teen’s eye widen, seemingly pleading.

"Go."

Nora grimaced hearing the blaring sirens echo throughout her suburban home. Their main room was an absolute midden, almost sensing her mother’s scolding from the probable grave, but the fear of obliteration from the German’s meant leaving a few items of clothing and sticky jam spilt across the floor could be justified. Swiping the nearest family portrait on the glossy cabinet and a small plate of shortbread that Mrs Wilson requested the last time, she scurries out after the children, bracing themselves when entering the cramped, clatty bunker in the garden.

Violet looks to her mother as they await on the damp grass whilst their elderly neighbours to climb in first. She steals one of the treats.

“Did you get them?” The brunette asks, muffled between bites.

“What?”

“Dad’s letters.”

“Don’t be daft, course I did.”

Seeing the weak smile and her little nine-year-old grips onto her floral dress, Nora lovingly pecks the top of her daughter’s head before entering the protective room and taking a seat next to Jack.

Calming her nerves, she crawls into her mother’s lap, trying to shield the booming noise and sporadic shaking.

“I miss him, and George.” Violet whispers.

“Me too hen,” She softly hums, “surely they’ll write again soon. Before you know it, they’ll be home.”

Life was hard, she wouldn’t lie but if the children saw her mood falter it would surely worry them. Four years, she’d been without a husband and two years without her eldest son. Now, she was caring for the remaining ones as well as an additional two from Thomas Shelby, though she’d had to put her foot down when Linda, and Esme showed up at her door. Thirteen weans running a muck in one place? Not a chance.

The Shelby brother didn’t have a missus to care for his children anymore, not since Lizzie left and despite her feelings of hatred towards the man, Nora couldn’t bear the thought of them living at some stranger’s farm on the opposite side of Britain, which would be a nightmare to track-down after the war had ended, _if it ends. _She didn’t want to lose another child to the country’s warfare.

All six had been nit-picking like cats and dogs; pulling at each-other’s hair, pushing and shoving throughout the house then screaming back and forth when someone didn’t get their way. The dreaded routine was killing her. If it wasn’t Rosie’s broken jewellery, it was Charlie’s stolen flat-cap or Violet’s decapitated doll.

Still, she’d take this over any Blinder activity. Bruises were easier to heal than bullet-wounds.

Gang-activity had been on hold for quite some time now, since expanding to America. Playing with murderous toys wasn’t the ideal image for public relations, so Thomas acted as local Politician and everyone else was allowed to raise their families tranquilly since the colossal mess that was _1925 to_ _1932 _for the Gray’s. She and Polly felt it was rather well deserved_._ The remaining Shelby boys only doing an occasional client-baiting for business, then the lackies had their way. That was all prior to getting shipped off.

Watching Michael’s train leave the station was agonising; like slicing open a healed wound. She’d done this, lived alone for three years after Thomas sent him across the pond against her wishes, but war? This time he might not come back. Nora managed to save-face for the kids that Friday morning, though restraining their crying five-year-old proved to be quite a challenge.

The news was rather unexpected since Germany had only invaded Poland days prior, which was miles from Britain. They’d had a number of things planned that weekend that just fell apart. Suddenly the kids couldn’t be bothered to play in the park or visit the local swimming bath because those were the days they got to spend with Michael, when he wasn’t working.

Nora wasn’t surprised at the reactions of the little ones, they’d be losing their dad for the first time but, just one glance at her eldest and the horror of the situation finally settled in.

She’d lost Michael before; She’d _always _had George.

Rosie dealt with her brother’s conscription significantly worse, she’d never known life without him. George was the brother who’d never forget to bring her something back from the shops, would let her win at whatever board game they had selected that night, protected his sister from the bullies at school when they teased their forever morphing dialect of Scots to English and whilst not endorsed by Nora; he threatened the first boy who’d ever laid eyes on her, poor thing was only twelve at the time.

Sure, they had their moments every few weeks, when both were ready to rip one-another’s heads off. But now, this rather sheltered teenager was staring at a man ready to kill or be killed on some European battlefield.

Not like it didn’t run in the family.

That, was years ago.

George would now be twenty and Rosie just turned eighteen, both adults in their own right with lives of their own, ready to begin once this fucking war finished.

Nora feels a slight weight rest on her bicep, she looks down to see Jack’s eyes drooping, like something out of his favourite cartoon. That boy could sleep though everything and anything, _wonder who he got that from?_

“I’ll not have to go, right Aunt Nora?”

She chews on her lip. She couldn’t imagine it; she didn’t want to. Charlie was thirteen, only a year older than her little boy which by proxy created far too many distressing mental images.

“Of course not, the war won’t last that long.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure, there was once a war that lasted one-hundred years.”

Nora gave her neighbour a knowing look as she scoffed down some shortbread.

“-_which_ was over six-hundred years ago, it think the world’s become a little more mature since then.”

“Pfft, do you really think the men of this world have changed since then? We’re still having silly wars, aren’t we?” She swallows the snack before continuing, “violence; it’s the only language those bastards listen to.”

The redhead gritted her teeth, “Quite done?”

Mrs Wilson shrugged, before the bunker returned to its neutral silence.

"Ouch! Stop it Ruby!"

"It was you that hit me!

"I didn't!"

"Yes you did! My foot can't even reach yours!"

_ Michael, if that war doesn't kill you. I fucking will._


End file.
